


Supple Thirty-Two

by Tarredion



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Coming Out, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Internalized Homophobia, Love Letters, M/M, Outing, Secret Admirer, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:15:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24643177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarredion/pseuds/Tarredion
Summary: A secret admirer sends flowers and letters to Dan over the years
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 21
Kudos: 31





	1. Intro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2011, September - Gardenias

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> updates on wednesdays, saturdays, & sometimes on other days of the week if there's a spare chapter ready to go up :)

“Stop making me get your mail!”

Dan closed the cupboard as soon as he heard Phil’s whining voice, giving up his quest of finding the crunchy nut. His best friend had most certainly already consumed it the night before, or it had gotten lost in their clutter, so it had been no use in the first place. He should’ve known that.

They’d lived in this apartment for less than a month, and yet it seemed like forever had gone by. It might be because it was nothing like he’d imagined; Phil was eating his food, not the other way around; and being together all the time was both a blessing and a curse.

He turned to see his roommate hauling a rectangular box into the kitchen, an oversized caution sticker on the top. “I’m not making you get my mail.  _ You _ went to get it yourself.”

“Well, I thought it was the new camera I ordered but it has your name on it,” Phil shrugged, glasses askew, setting it onto the cluttered table. “What did you get anyways?”

It wasn’t like Dan didn’t know what he had bought. He usually did. He just couldn’t remember ordering at all, but then again, if the box had his name on it, it must be something.

Taking a boxcutter from the table, making a mental note to move it later so Phil wouldn’t hurt himself in his haste, he sat on one of the only chairs in the room and began to cut viciously into the cardboard. Caution sticker be damned.

The top split open with a deafening tearing noise, revealing a strange set of objects. A folded golden envelope with a black edge, at least one neatly packaged chocolate bar, and three small, white flowers sat undisturbed on the bottom of the box. They were nearly buried in airy, ruffled silk paper that lined the box, presumably to keep them untouched. 

Phil’s eyebrows were raised, high above his glimmering blue eyes when Dan looked up into them. A small, amused smirk played on his lips. Dan, too, began to smile at the sight, though partially in disbelief.

_ “What?” _

“That-” Phil started, reaching into the box. “-looks like a love letter, Danny.”

Cheeks flushing with warmth, Dan tried to snatch it out of his hand. Not for his own sake; he couldn’t believe anyone would actually make any effort to send him  _ fucking flowers, _ but because not even in hell would he let Phil see someone else sing his praises and shower him with affection. Not Phil Lester, his best friend and the proper heartthrob he’s been in love with since he was fifteen.

No way.

“Give it here-”

“Nope!”

“Give. Me.”

In the midst of his protests, Phil dodged his swiping hand yet again, cackling loudly. 

“If you’ve got a secret admirer with access to  _ our _ new address, I’ll be the first to know what they have to say,” he pointed out gleefully, swinging the paper above his head. “They’ll probably fawn over your pretty brown doe eyes or ask to hold hands  _ down by the water.” _

Dan flipped him the bird. Still, he had to hold his own laughter down. It was pretty funny, and he really couldn’t be angry at Phil for mocking the almost ridiculous concept.

Love letters, poetry,  _ flowers _ for gods sake. It wasn’t like he’d even flirted with anyone for long enough to warrant such an old-fashioned, almost pretentious petty little formality … though he couldn’t deny he’d be open to it if Phil had written it. He had even imagined it as a younger teenager, when he was the absolute deepest in his Phil-related fantasies - he’d keep that thought very quiet, however. It wasn’t like it was something that was over; that he could laugh at.

Once the gold envelope was finally in his hands, he used the same boxcutter to slit the top open. Slipping a crisp paper out, and unfolding it to reveal small, cramped, swirly writing, Dan felt his eyes widen.

Behind him, Phil snorted, but he decided to ignore him. Now he was actually intrigued. It wasn’t a big joke, nor a fluke. Someone out there had put  _ effort _ into this,  _ real effort.  _ For him. 

Christ. Whoever it was, they must really like him. Or be absolutely insane. 

After fishing the paper out, Dan squinted his eyes to read it. But as soon as he felt Phil’s weight on his shoulder, he quickly folded it back up, still red in the face, and swung around to face him.

His friend grumbled, though sounded only half-heartedly disappointed, tongue sticking out between his teeth. Dan glared at him, heart pounding in his chest.

“I’ll… read that later.” He spoke slowly, placing the paper down and holding it firmly in place with his palm pressed against the tabletop. Phil giggled, leaning against the edge. 

“You sure will.” Only a few seconds passed before his fingers moved from his tousled black hair and were back in the package, rummaging around. “Can I have the chocolate, then?”

“You and your bloody sugar addiction-”

“Is that a yes?”

Dan couldn’t resist the look on his face; his widened, ‘innocent’ blue eyes, the crinkles around them, and the smile that made it seem like the sun shone from his mouth. That, combined with his frumpled pajamas and smudged glasses, made light burst in his chest at the sight. 

Always so hopelessly in love. 

Sighing, though almost happily, Dan whispered;  _ “Fine.” _

He caught one final glimpse of the flowers in the box before Phil uprooted the whole thing, digging for the chocolate like a dog in a garden full of bones. He looked them up later, while Phil pushed over two more decorations and attempted to put up a bookshelf all on his own; a danger to himself and their lease, he was sure.

The delicate flowers were gardenias. And if this ‘admirer’ of his had any intent behind their choices, which he supposed because of their effort, they meant  _ secret love. _ A bit on the nose... But all the same, Dan was even more intrigued.

When night came a few hours later, and they’d crawled into separate beds, Dan wishing the dark wasn’t so dark, he unfolded the letter. He spent his last minutes awake reading it to himself, breath caught in his throat. He still couldn’t believe it.

And secretly, he wondered if he’d get any more.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reblog here:
> 
> <https://tarredion.tumblr.com/post/620534938069057536/supple-thirty-two>


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2011, December -  
> Apple blossom

They finished their recordings for the Christmas Special only two days before the deadline. As always a master procrastinator, Dan had convinced Phil to hold it off for as long as they could.

At the end of filming, Dan tackled Phil to the ground, knocking their heads together. Despite the acute pain, Phil’s laughter blossomed a flower of fire within him. 

He felt more alive and satisfied than he ever had before. They’d gotten so many offers and opportunities in the past few months, more than he could have ever dreamed of, and he’d begun to get drunk on the feeling of success. 

“Stop smothering me with marker!” Dan shrieked, Phil’s pointy nose nuzzling his face and neck rather violently. Loud and adorable laughter was the only response, Phil’s hot breath and kissable mouth so close to his skin it made his face flush beet red.

“Never!”

Dan rolled away and across the living room floor to escape, a kick to his chins the only thing stopping him from rolling his eyes. He whined loudly as Phil only followed him, bloody adorable with his tongue between his teeth. 

He’d just been about to push him away again when the doorbell rang.

Frozen with a slack jaw and a drying throat, Dan swallowed hard. Their gazes flickered between the other’s eyes, and he noted with heartbreaking disappointment the timidness and fear that flooded Phil’s face, twisting his features. He retracted his limbs and his self, and Dan could only accept the flaring ache that came with seeing such a reaction. Well, it was always like this. He shouldn’t be expecting any more; they all had boundaries, and these were Phil’s. Even if he himself seemed to break them sometimes.

Dan reached the entrance flushed and embarrassed. He’d let his feelings get the best of him, and he knew,  _ he knew _ he shouldn’t. he’d fucked up again, and Phil would end up reclusive for the rest of the week. And that couldn’t happen. They had a radio show to run and an image to uphold. Most importantly, a friendship to keep intact.

And him, stupid fucking idiot Dan, had just messed it all up. Probably. Because of a dumb little celebrity crush that had spiraled out of control, and was way overdue.

Shaking his head, Dan jerked the door open. This was not the time to berate himself. That’d make it all so much worse; if he was in a foul mood, too.

“Sorry for the wait,” he blurted out, only to find himself surprised yet again. There wasn’t a friend, lost neighbour, or a pizza delivery on their doormat. It was an unexpected postman.

Within seconds a package had been shoved into Dan’s arms. “Here’s your post!” he spat. Then the man was gone with a swish of his arm and a slam of the door, leaving him with a furrowed brow and a mumbled question on his rounded lips.

“Thanks?” 

Once back in the kitchen, he found a space to open it. As expected, Phil had gone off to some other part of the house, so while it stung and Dan was disappointed in himself, hot tears forming in his eyes, he’d at the very least be undisturbed.

Considering he could guess what it’d be, he really wanted to be.

His hands were shaking by the time he’d raised the card to eye-level. Pastel pink, textured, and sealed with a wax crest in the shape of a flower.

Simply beautiful.

He shook away the thought of a comparison with Phil, then peered back into the box. It wasn’t as extravagant as last time, but it seemed just as strange and yet just as thoughtful. A single branch of pink apple blossoms, detailed and crisp, was there laid out.

Popping the seal open, biting down on his lip, Dan prepared himself diligently.

_ Dear Dan, _ it said, in just as swirly lettering. Though with less untrained, scrawny movements than were apparent in the last one. He found himself smiling. His secret admirer had made an effort to improve, just for him.

_ If I had to describe you with any words, my whole vocabulary would be drained. There is so much to say about you, so much to describe. You are almost too much, but in the best way. Funny, charming, cute, hot, gorgeous, talented, purely perfect - the list goes on. The point is that the point of this letter is to fawn over you, I suppose. You deserve all the compliments, and in truth, I suppose this means you are my preference (ooh saucy - I am sorry if you find that cringeworthy).  _

_ On another note, congratulations on your Radio 1 appearance! I look forward to watching it; I am sure both you and Phil will make it an amazing ordeal. _

_ - _

_ ps this is much shorter than the previous one, but any interaction with you, any positive affirmation I can give you, is worth it. Only because that’s what you deserve. _

_ I hope dearly you realize that too… _

Dan’s heart still ached, but it softened slightly. And on some level, the admirer was right; it gave him just enough confidence to at the very least try to remedy himself. To mend, repair, restore, and outperform what had almost been broken and lost. And on top of that, he felt incredibly proud of it.

This second, heartfelt note still made him smile months later.

He snuck out of the kitchen and into his room, light on his feet. Sounds came from down the corridor, but he didn’t stop to listen, knowing what a closed door from Phil meant; it was almost always open, like his arms for a cuddle or his mind for a talk.

Dan crawled into bed after delicately placing the card in the hidden compartment of his wardrobe. A place Phil would not find it, if he ever decided to snoop around. Not that Phil would, of course, but Dan was always rather paranoid…

Maybe he had reasons to. Maybe not.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reblog here:
> 
> <https://tarredion.tumblr.com/post/620802015640092672/supple-thirty-two>


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2012, March -  
> Violet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note, this chapter is the most angsty one - the majority of the fic will be similar to the first two chapters, not this one
> 
> though it can be skipped if you're uncomfortable with/triggered by the following
> 
> ::TRIGGER WARNINGS::
> 
> Outing  
> Panic attack  
> Internalized Homophobia  
> Homophobic Slurs  
> Homophobia  
> Implied Self Harm Thoughts

~~**//read the tw//** ~~

**...**

The blinds fluttered, the windows vetting towards the street far below filled with sunlight.

Dan sat quietly in his room, tapping away on the program he used for editing, yet another recommendation he’d gotten from Phil only a couple of months ago. His lip was strung beneath his teeth, eyes trained on the screen in concentration. 

His phone buzzed on the table next to him. It was the third time that hour, and he couldn’t ignore it any longer. With a frustrated sigh, he picked it up. He’d really wanted to get done with editing this video, but he supposed the universe didn’t want his followers to receive one even after a streak of motivation and productivity on his end. 

**Notifications** **6**

**Pyjamas Liguori**

**Have you.. Seen it yet?**

He scrolled to the other notifications; they all said the same, cryptic thing. Whatever they were talking about, he had absolutely no idea. Though at the sight of the next message that just then came through, he almost didn’t want to.

**Skies**

**look at your fb gayboi**

What the actual fuck was he playing at? Dan furrowed his brow. It wasn’t often that Charlie -even Charlie, that asshole- resulted to using such blunt, rude remarks as a way to rile him up or be edgy in conversation.

Still, he followed what he said and opened up the app.

Big, big mistake.

A single screenshot, and a description, was plastered on his timeline. It was everywhere. From fanblogs to internet newsoutlets to… to his own facebook account. Where it all started, it seemed, based upon a reply to one of his posts.

_ Eric Harold _ , in bold letters. A name he recognized. A guy from school.

All the words in that sentence tasted bitter on his tounge, and they always would, but the worst was yet to come. 

Beneath them, screenshots and links and an  _ essay _ Dan was most certainly not ever going to read. Every single one confirming what he’d been trying to deny to both his fans and the media and his friends  _ for months _ . Maybe even to himself. 

He still couldn’t say the words, not even think them, but that just made him even more furious that he had to see them plastered everywhere in sight. Against his will.

He was also quite a bit terrified. __

_ Everything _ had been fucking  _ fine _ a few hours ago. Sure, he’d been frightened and ‘untrue’ to himself but he’d had a promising future ahead. Most importantly, he’d been in control.

Now, it was all coming crashing down. His phone was flooding with messages, from people that had seen him come online to family members who must’ve just come off work for the day. 

_ ‘Surely’, _ his mind said. Surely they were all pissed with him. Saying.. all those things about him that he hated. Maybe they felt betrayed. He couldn’t help but feel guilty, gut twisting uncomfortably.

Dan hated being the ‘bad friend’, but he couldn’t deny that he felt like any one of them had a right to be angry at him.

Not to mention, what would their employers say? Would all their opportunities and plans for the following year fizzle away? 

Fuck, what if even Phil took this to heart. What if he  _ realized. _

Because he probably would, after this. There was no denying what it meant.

_ Fucking.  _

_ great. _

Tears flooded his burning eyes. He lasted about a minute, staring blankly at the hurtful messages filling his screen, before the droplets cascaded down his cheeks.

_ Fuck, _ he thought again, failing to blink them away. It hurt.

All of it hurt.

_ Crying _ hurt.

Being betrayed hurt. Being  _ outed _ hurt.

Dan swallowed the lump in his throat as best as he could, face streaked with obvious wet lines. The only thoughts in his mind were drowned out by chants of  _ fuck _

He was going to _fucking panic._ He was panicking.

Dan furiously slammed the lid shut before slumping backwards in his chair. The chair jolted and creaked at the sudden movement.

It felt like a rope was being snared around his ribcage; his heart throbbed against the pressure. Already short of breath, he quipped for air as his hands trembled in his lap. He tried to force them to stop, but to no avail. He was already shaking so much that they wouldn’t move the way he wanted them to.

His leg was bouncing, too. 

He wanted to get away. Get out, run off, or something. Desperately. But he couldn’t.

Phil was somewhere in the apartment, and if he hadn’t already seen the posts, he’d instantly inquire if he saw Dan sprint out of his room full-on sobbing, like he was.

Truly, there was nothing he could do, and he hated it.

Fire seared his skin, and sweat poured down his temples, neck and back. He tried to force any negative thoughts away, biting down on his tongue in anger and defiance, but he was too weak, too frail to resist.

_ ‘Dan,’ _ his mind sneered at him.  _ ‘So fucking pathetic, that’s what you are.’ _

A defiant, twisted smirk crept upon his features, despite the rolling tears and stifled sobs. “You fucking wish,” he replied beneath his breath, knowing full well he’d look absolutely insane if anyone could see. But noone could, and why should he care, anyways, when he was already so exposed? 

_ ‘Fucking disgusting faggot,’  _ another voice spat, crawling from deep within his subconscious. With a churn of his stomach, Dan realised it sounded way, way too much like Phil. His smile immediately fell.

_ ‘Been imagining your- your filthy mouth on my cock? Salivating over it, you disgusting pig? Do your eyes draw to it each time I enter a room?’ _

Dan knew Phil, that kind, amazing soul, and he’d never for the life of himself or his mother say anything like it. Not even think it! Anyways, it was largely untrue. Sort of. 

But that didn’t mean he was able to stop his own sobs once they came, tears once again flooding to the surface.

_ ‘I want you out of my life’ _

He rebuilt his walls, closing his eyes. A faint, buzzing murmur in the back of his mind became the only reminder.

He was  _ done for. _

Dan couldn’t help but to let his fingers travel up his sides, nails nipping and clawing at the skin, trying to itch the pain and anger and frustration away. With each word the anxiety made up, each phrase he thought someone out there would say, he’d dig them into his flesh. It stung, and it hurt, but  _ anything _ to distract himself from the swirling emotions in his chest.

He hadn’t meant to overthink, but he did. His mind had literally sprung alive during the worst of the panic. It was working in overdrive.

Swallowing hard, acid bile in his throat, Dan remembered it’d only been this bad once before.

Remembering was bad, though, and he only had one cure. He ignored the visceral tightness in his chest, the lump in his throat that made it hard to breathe, and made his mind up, despite how fuzzy it seemed. 

His knees shook as he stood. With a couple of staggering steps he made it over to the bed, collapsing in a literal fit of pain and trauma and anger and tears.

Dan stayed in his room for days at a time, crying or asleep. He’d only let Phil near himself when he needed particular comfort, or whenever Phil insisted on feeding him instead of just placing the meal outside the door, as Dan usually wouldn’t get out of bed to get it until it was beyond cold.

He also cried so much during the following weeks that there was no use in changing the sheets. 

Yet after those weeks it had all begun to sink in, especially since Phil would read him the nice, appreciative comments to him each night. The storm, within and outside, began to calm slowly but steadily.

Dan was back to his feet soon after that, taking time at least once a day to walk around the apartment, which now felt rather unfamiliar. They’d order dominos every other night, just for comfort food, but Dan still appreciated any effort that was made from his best friend’s side. Because he really didn’t have to take care of him.

Though being in Phil’s presence was undeniably what helped his health and mood back to normal.

And maybe he fell a little bit more in love then, knowing Phil would be with him through thick and thin. 

What Dan hadn’t expected was for another delivery to arrive at their door. Or for one to  _ have _ arrived, rather. He’d been too emotionally distraught to see that Phil had placed a box and a card on the drawer in the hallway. He only noticed it when he went out there to pick up yet another order. 

He snuck it into his own room before returning to the sofa, pizzas balanced in his hands. He tried to seem calm and composed, like  _ that _ hadn’t just happened right beneath Phil’s nose, but miserably failed.

“Took you a long time,” Phil said. He didn’t look Dan’s way as he continued to watch the TV, and for once he was glad he wasn’t getting his attention. His expression would’ve given him away.

Silently, he wondered when during the weeks that it arrived. Out loud, he threw Phil a witty comment, unsure of how else to respond.

He tried his best to focus on the screen rather than the letter, or Phil’s bloody gorgeous arms pressed to his side, or his unkempt black hair just in line of sight. He did end up watching the movie, but by god he couldn’t tell you a jot about the plot. 

Phil hugged Dan goodnight by his bedroom door, convinced he’d be fine sleeping alone. He got his phone back, too, since Phil now trusted him not to look up responses to his outing.

Though for once, Dan wasn’t intending upon browsing the internet until daybreak.

The box was filled with purple flowers, plucked from their stems and placed among heartshaped leaves. He caressed their gentle frames, head filled with thoughts mulling over all the effort and all the choices made, but that didn’t interest him as much as the letter did.

Unlike the other times, however, Dan spent a good couple minutes simply looking at it. His hands were starting to tremble the longer he did, but he couldn’t get himself to open it. Not yet. And it wasn’t cause he didn’t want to ruin the lovely design on the front, even if that’d usually have been a factor.

His fingers tinkered with the seal, pulling off the red wax like a scab to reveal page upon page crammed with words. 

His jaw fell open, his eyes burning as he skimmed the contents.

He couldn’t believe... His admirer wasn’t just expressing their love, they were.. sympathizing. Telling stories of their own. Comforting him.

Somehow, that hurt more.

By dawn, the pages were soaked with droplets in shades of pearl, and he’d soundly fallen asleep. His heart was heavy in his chest, but his breathing was even and light.

Good things come in threes - though happy things don’t always, do they...

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had a difficult time making this chapter express what it had to express (..for multiple reasons..) but it's back
> 
> Don't worry though, this is truly the saddest one ,_,
> 
> reblog here:
> 
> <https://tarredion.tumblr.com/post/622697858006695936/supple-thirty-two>  
> 


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